“No, it’s not.”
“And I’m not sure when it will be.”
“Neither am I,” he says.
He hasn’t let go of me, and I haven’t looked away from him, and when he rocks forward, it’s so subtle that it’s only my body’s immediate response that makes me sure it happened at all. I put my hands on his waist and wordlessly ask him to do it again, and Darren barely nods. Everything is hushed, a bottle and a half of wine reducing our world to this, and when he presses his forehead to mine, we just breathe.
By the time we kiss, our mouths are open for it, nothing starting tentatively when we’ve been here so many times before. It’s all so gentle, though—every touch and plea and slow drag of his tongue against mine—and I feel each sound before I hear a damn thing. He scrapes a hand through my hair and holds on, and I wrap my arms around him while he continues to grind against me, our arousal undeniable. But even the roll of his hips is unhurried, the heavy hum of alcohol in our blood keeping a rhythm I sort of love.
I’m not sure how to say that exactly, but I break the kiss and drop my lips to his neck. “I don’t want to get you out of my system.”
“Does that mean we shouldn’t fuck?” he asks. “Would you rather keep me right here?”
“We could come like this.”
“We could.”
When I’m quiet too long, Darren tugs on my hair and makesme groan. But I lift my head and fall back into another seemingly endless kiss. I ache, and I need to say so, but it won’t take much. Nudging him backward, I tip my head toward the downstairs bathroom.
“Go.”
He nips the underside of my jaw and peels himself away, and while his shorts do nothing to hide how eager he is to get there and back again, a couple of quick strokes over the material give him the relief they can. I don’t know why I hadn’t thought to have a condom and lube within reach already, but we’ve kept some relatively close for weeks now, and I don’t worry about whether Beau will borrow anything tomorrow. When Darren returns, he adds to the pile of vices on the coffee table and crawls back onto my lap, cradling my face with both hands now.
“Hello.”
“You’re not drunk, are you?” I ask.
Darren rubs his nose against mine. “All I said was hello.”
Any other point I might’ve made is forgotten when he opens my mouth with his own, still perfectly languid while his body seeks the friction it had loved a minute ago. My hands slip beneath the back of his shirt, smooth skin everywhere I can reach, and his fall between us, Darren’s nimble fingers pulling both of us free. I expect him to do more then, but he only drags his thumb over my wet tip and sucks it clean and kisses me deeply. There’s no way for me to know what he had planned next, but I’m not patient enough for it, and I tighten my hold on him. As soon as I stand, he instinctively locks his legs behind my back, and I thinkI could carry him anywhere.
I don’t actually go very far.
It’s a little clumsy, and probably hilarious if we were any less turned on and tipsy, but I lower him to the thick carpet and feel him arch up into me immediately. We’re clear of the coffee table and not close enough to the fireplace to be bothered by the heat. And with our waistbands still low enough to leave us bare to each other, I slide my length against his and say his name with the reverence I assume few men have shown.
His entire body is so pliant beneath me, his legs loose around mine now, and his hands light against me like they’re simply there to reassure him I won’t leave. And I don’t want to, but at some point I chuckle into our kiss and have to push at the sweatpants in my way, Darren on the verge of laughing, too. The clumsiness returns—or maybe it never fully left—but then we’re wearing nothing but our shirts, and I can press my smile to his again.
Everything is still syrupy, the wine causing me to move as slowly as I would’ve liked to anyway. With minimal preparation, I could bury myself in Darren from here and kiss him while he whimpers for more, but it feels so good to rub against each other like this, and I go in search of another minute of that instead. Finally more coordinated, I shift until my legs are on the other side of his and I can straddle him, lining us up and taking both of us in my hand. He reaches up for the lube and grins as he drizzles it over our tips, and whether he thinks I’ve gone back on my word about what I want tonight, I’m not sure. Dropping the bottle,he sits up to chase another kiss while I stroke us together, and nothing else matters.
“You’re so fucking hot,” Darren groans, one hand in my hair and the other barely wrapped around my wrist as it continues up and down. “I love the way your cock feels against mine. I love how wet you make me every time.”
It’s true, and the biggest reason we probably could’ve done this part without any help. I watch as his fingertip glides through a few drops of it now, but lose sight of his hand when it moves behind me. And then I feel him against my hole, slick and ready for anything I might want.
“Yes,” I breathe, my mouth at his temple.
“Yeah?”
Darren’s never really been inside me before. The closest he came was the night he dropped to his knees in his shower and teased me with his tongue more than his finger. His mouth has made me writhe several more times in the months since, but he hasn’t attempted more than that, maybe because I haven’t asked for it, or just because we’ve discovered so many other ways to touch each other.
Tonight, though. I don’t think I’ll have to ask for much, and I can’t imagine a single reason I’d say no to him—not about anything, even and especially if there’s a way he wants to use my body. I invited him into my bedroom, and then into my kitchen, and I’m not interested in telling him to leave anywhere else now.
“Please,” I try instead.
I feel him nod, and though my rhythm has been thrown, myhand still glides up and down where I’ve been stroking us for a while. I embrace the familiar sensation while I’m introduced to something new, Darren careful but confident as he opens me up with a single fingertip. He’s gone and there and gone again, murmuring reminders of a hundred things, and after another few seconds, he pulls his hand away and taps my thigh.
“Let go and lie down.”
If I hesitate, it’s only because everything in me aches forsomething, and Darren is offering to take most of my pain away. He waits me out, and then I’m moving until my back rests on the carpet and I feel him push my legs up and apart. I suppose he could do anything from there, but he kisses the back of my thigh and says something I don’t hear, and I open my eyes without having realized they were closed.